Psychic Thunder

best mini boss ever

The fog rolled down off the mountains. The streets were full of mist. Kaan walked through the night, past two-story flats. The buildings were shorter here, preserving the historic skyline. All the shops were closed, their storefronts covered by metal shutters. Sidewalks were slippery; puddles, from the rain earlier this evening, opened into gaping vistas of the sky above.

Clouds chased the moon. Kaan found the building she was looking for in this quiet, crumbling part of town. Everything was bathed in orange streetlight. Kaan pulled out the keys from her black jeans and unlocked the grate. Shutting the door behind her, she followed the stairs down into the musty basement.

The room was dark except for an urn, with a small blue flame in it. Aspen came into view, her platinum hair illuminated by the frozen light.

“You showed up,” she said.

“Yes, it has been a while,” Kaan said. She pulled her ring out of the breast pocket of her black, buttoned-down shirt, and handed the band to Aspen.

“She probably missed you,” Aspen said, receiving the titanium ring. She removed a piece of white chalk from her dress pocket and began drawing a circle around Kaan and the urn. Then she entered the protective circle herself and dropped the ring in the fire.

Inside the circle, the flame arced up, almost licking the ceiling. In the flames, Aro materialized, sitting in the lotus position, levitating over the mouth of the urn.

“You’re like a djinn in a bottle,” Kaan said, grinning.

“You disappear for months and then you awaken me while I am meditating,” Aro said.

“A whole bunch of our old friends have disappeared into the woods,” Kaan replied, “There are very few left to hold the old band together.”

Aro had been a philosophy professor at Kaan’s college. Years later, Aro had also been the strongest psychic at the lab, with the highest levels of ESP ever recorded. There was nothing left of her body. Not even organs in glass jars remained.

“Too many espers are hooked on Heladon,” Aspen added.

Aro shifted in her asana and turned to Kaan, “Come here, let me look at you.”

Kaan came closer. The ghost, made of blue flame, ran her hands over Kaan’s head, her high and tight haircut. Kaan felt Aro’s hands as a movement of warm air. “You’re different from when I last saw you,” Aro said, “More scars.”

Kaan’s body felt heavy and slack, like she had lived double the amount of years in her life, “I missed you.”

“What can we do to hold our people together?” Aspen said.

Aro let her hands drop from Kaan’s face, “You need to find the blockage in the flow. You need to sit in a dry well.”

Channeler - Medium


Cosmastly, “$KELINGTON CIGZ”

Cosmastly, “NOWHERE TO HIDE”

Cosmastly, “NO CONTE$T”

Health, “Tears”

Related: Ghost Flavor Lost Xanadu and Something that Happened

Ghost Flavor

Pokemon Tower ghost

Kaan jumped the fence, clearing it without snagging her jeans. She ran across the damp, sloppy ground, grass growing and rotting, in its own earth. Old white trainers hitting the dirt, Kaan ran toward the sinking house in front of her. Already, she could hear music, across the way. The empty windows with hanging shutters, were all alit, for Aspen’s birthday party.

Kaan jogged a little slower, swinging the handle of whiskey, as she walked toward the abandoned house. There was no mailbox; the path’s flagstones had been shifted out of their places long ago. The lawn had been taken back by nature. The door hung ajar. Light streamed out from within.

Inside, around a long table, a dinner party was in full progress, in the rundown kitchen, with the chipped counters. Several bottles of wine, wooden boards stacked with cheese and black olives were heaped for the taking. The kitchen was packed, and the party spilled into the living room, with the sunken floor, rotting rug and dismantled sofa.

Aspen stood by the fridge – which hadn’t been plugged in during this decade – with Dallas, visiting from out of town. The latter had been a Kiwi for a semester and was regaling the awestruck Aspen with tales of Lord of the Rings rolling hills and eating raw kangaroo in Queensland.

In a wife beater and a biker jacket, Kaan was out of place among the yuppie elite, ironically squatting in this ancient clapboard house for a night. She unscrewed the Fireball and took a gulp from the bottle.

“Long day?”

Aspen had somehow sidled up behind her. Furthermore, Aspen had somehow escaped Dallas’s story, an even more incredible feat.

“Ah no, I just thought Bern would be here,” Kaan answered.

“You know Bern is always late,” Aspen said, “Probably got lost on the way here.”

“It is out of the way, don’t you think?”

“No, not out of the way enough,” Aspen replied, taking the whiskey and downed a swig herself.

Confused, Kaan said nothing. Aspen disappeared into the crowd, still holding the bottle.

The tiny boom box on the mantelpiece pumped out its tunes, with the ridiculous background hiss of feedback.

After wandering through the stuffy kitchen, nibbling very strong cheese, with blue spots, Kaan finally made it back outside, and lit a cigarette.

The air was damp, and the lighter kept going out. Just beyond the shadow of the forgotten house, Dallas was already standing there, taking in the moonlight.

Kaan shuffled over and sat down on a misshapen rock. “I left someone back in New York,” Dallas said. Mist rose out of the marsh and floated out to the ocean.

Channeler, Medium, Priestess


Jefferson Airplane, “Somebody to Love”


Cosmastly, “BLOWING RACK$”

INXS, “Need You Tonight”

Related: The Vampire